


not the waking (please just let me sleep)

by estel_willow



Series: Alex Manes Appreciation Week 2019 [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Series, alex manes appreciation week 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-26 00:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18712444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estel_willow/pseuds/estel_willow
Summary: His limbs are heavy and sluggish, nothing's responding when he tries to move. His throat's dry and scratchy and when he manages to loll his head to the side he doesn't see caramel-coloured curls and honey-rich eyes.





	not the waking (please just let me sleep)

There's screaming around him, someone's yelling his name and he thinks he can feel hands against his face. But the world's a huge ball of white and fire and he can't see or hear anything. His ears are ringing and he's pretty sure a part of him is burning and all he's thinking about is how eight months ago he was stood on the step of the Airstream Michael said he was going to sell, tapping on the door only for Michael to refuse to let him in. _I won't say goodbye to you again, Alex_ he shouts through the door and _I'm done being a handy excuse for you to run away from what you want_ and Alex turns his head and walks away and hears from Maria that Michael was caught screwing some tourist in the back of the Pony by his wife and she's had to ban him for a month to save face.

Alex's breath is bubbling and burning and his chest's alight with the ache of memory and flames and he feels wet and warm and cold. He closes his eyes and surrenders. He closes his eyes and lets go.

> _Rain's pattering on the porch and he blinks into the warm hot-chocolate that's resting in his palms. Fall's colder than usual and that's come with its fair share of rainstorms and thunderclaps that make Wentz whine in the background. He hears the sound of her paws scrabbling on the wooden floor as she pushes her way underneath the couch even though she stopped being able to do that at least four years ago so now just sticks her muzzle under the couch and closes her eyes and waits for Michael to flop a blanket over her so she feels secure._
> 
> _Warm arms come around his waist and he leans back a little, eyes closed and head tipped to the side. Breath is warm against his neck as lips slide along the column, settling where his neck and shoulder meet and Michael presses a gentle kiss there, just the tiniest scrape of stubble and teeth and he shudders but not because of the cold. Michael's hands are warm as they slide along his stomach to his hips, gently guiding them backwards and he feels his lips curl up._
> 
> _"Really, Guerin?" he asks and he turns on the spot in Michael's arms to look up at him, curls over his forehead and a smudge of flour on his cheek. It's their birthday coming up and Michael wants to bake Max and Isobel a cake this year - Isobel tried last year and it was a nightmare, and no one's ever allowed to let her near a kitchen again. "On the porch?"_
> 
> _"Really, Manes," Michael responds, his voice a low purr against Alex's lips as he takes the hot chocolate from him and puts it on the windowsill. Rain hammers the porch and Alex can feel it brushing against his heels, spitting over his bare skin but he doesn't really care. He lifts his hands (free now from having to hold something) to cup Michael's cheeks and he leans up, nudging their noses together, at the same that Michael leans down to press their foreheads together. "On the porch."_
> 
> _His voice sends a shudder down Alex's spine as Michael runs his nose along the line of Alex's cheekbone and kisses just underneath his ear and Alex's fingers push into his curls, tangling in them even as his gaze catches on a silver band sitting on his left ring finger and his chest swells with the constant reminder that the man biting along his jaw and stealing his breath with a searing kiss, pushing him up against the doorframe and hands sliding up underneath his shirt to push it out of the way, is his_ husband _._
> 
> _Alex's head knocks against the wood as Michael yanks his t-shirt off and throws it to one side, only complaining briefly at the fact that it had just been tossed into the rain because he's rapidly derailed as Michael's lips move down his chest, deft - unmarred - fingers tugging at his belt and fly and Alex's fingers bury themselves in Michael's hair and he holds on, even if there is some kind of alarm going off behind them. He thinks about going to turn it off, but he's with his husband and right now it's perfect._
> 
> _Everything's perfect._
> 
> _Everything's perfect._
> 
> _Everything's..._
> 
> _**wrong** _

His limbs are heavy and sluggish, nothing's responding when he tries to move. His throat's dry and scratchy and when he manages to loll his head to the side he doesn't see caramel-coloured curls and honey-rich eyes. He doesn't feel the weight of a wedding band on his finger when he manages to force his thumb to reach for what he knows should be there. The room's clean and his eyes are burning and he doesn't know what's happening. His vision's swimming and the room's white and the beeping of the alarm clock he knows now is the sound of his heart rate which is hammering faster and faster as he realises more slowly than he would have liked that he's in a hospital. 

"Captain Manes- Captain-" someone's clicking their fingers and he manages to turn his head again in the other direction. A doctor's face is swimming in his view and the world pitches in a way that makes him feel nauseous. He wants to go back to sleep, back to the dream where he's with Michael in their house and Michael hasn't shut the door of an airstream and closed him out of his life. Instead, he's forced to go through a series of cognitive tests - _follow the light, who's President, what do you remember_ \- and he's told that though most of his squad survived and are outside waiting to speak to him, he's lost a part of himself that he'll never be able to get back. 

Alex doesn't want to talk to anyone and the rush of people that come in and out, in and out, washes over him like the ocean laps at the beach wearing down the stones until they're smooth and utterly bent to its will, the white noise of conversation tuned out like rain hammering on a patio in a future he knows he can never have.

**Author's Note:**

> So I played fast and loose with the 'dreaming with a broken heart' prompt for Alex Manes Week's day 1 (and I know it's late, it's 2am and technically day two BUT. Pfft. It's still the 4th somewhere in the world).
> 
> The intention is to do a second chapter, which is a little less painful? Because this show hurts badly enough right now without me adding to it by writing stuff that doesn't have a happy ending. 
> 
> Unbeta'd!


End file.
